


like a stone on the water, the elements decide my fate

by slashmania



Series: show me your fury [3]
Category: Codex Alera - Jim Butcher, Inception (2010)
Genre: ...and he's not supposed to be like a Princess Bride type pirate, Alera is in Limbo, Cursor!Arthur, Editing NaNoWriMo 2018, I just keep making this stuff complicated, M/M, Memory Loss, Pirate!Yusuf, Steadholder!Eames, i might just watch that, if that was a show, if you thought that show me your fury dealt with lots of emotions this one might have even more, limbo fic, when wood furies attack!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2019-10-02 12:45:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17264489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashmania/pseuds/slashmania
Summary: Arthur said he was going to trap the Vord Queen down in Limbo. But after becoming trapped down there too, Arthur comes to in Alera with no memory of his previous life aside from his need to stop the Vord Queen.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Okay, long author's note, so bear with me)
> 
> First, I'd like to say that this is going to be one part of my New Year's resolution. I've spent so much of my time this year bitterly watching the stats for my fics and feeling unconnected from...well, everything. Then Arthur's Anonymous came around and I signed up to receive comments (I also signed up to give comments but my lack of a Tumblr account made that potentially positive effort backfire horribly and I'm sorry I wasted everyone's time with that).
> 
> I received beautiful inspiring comments. They were so wonderful I actually cried! For the first time in months I didn't feel like writing and posting was the equivalent of shouting into a void. So this is my attempt to use those positive feelings as a springboard. I'm going to rewrite and edit my 2018 NaNo. I'm giving myself a year, so I'm starting today I'm posting the third part of the "show me your fury" series. Please enjoy!
> 
> *And bear with me as I go back after posting to make edits to my edits.

Arthur was up in the air, not going quite as high has he was able to with his powerful air fury, but instead following the rules set by the men and women in charge of the base. He even had to sign things just to go outside and breathe fresh air- contracts and agreements that were many pages long. Arthur had to sign different contracts and agreements to fly in the space that was diagrammed and charted for him. He couldn’t go as high as the planes, he couldn’t get out of range of the watchmen and security guards view by binoculars. He’d argued for another mile, then two. Arthur was planning on getting the radius extended too. He spread his arms and called to his fury, the wind wolf appearing outlined at his side.

“I feel the storm coming,” Arthur said to his fury. “Let’s get back down before we get caught up in it, eh?”

There wasn't much research about the intelligence of furies. But after working his own furies for so long, Arthur was sure that when he spoke to Spot, there was something more than just the understanding of an elemental being bonded to his will. His air fury wasn’t subservient. The wolf shaped air fury was his primary fury. He felt emotions from his furies similar to the emotions he sensed when he touched or interacted with people. He had been crafting long enough to notice the subtle differences but Arthur was still unsure if the furies developed this quality after prolonged contact with their human partners or if it was natural. He'd been able to sense something from his furies ever since Project PASIV made him aware of them- he'd could call furies and he could bond with furies. His furies loved him, worried over him, and defended him. It was also likely that Spot was feeling just as uncomfortable with their confining situation.

While Arthur was calling on Spot to soar through the regulated zone, unburdening his mind and attempting to feel some form of freedom despite his living on the base for several months now, maybe Spot was expressing his own feeling about the situation? Through the bond, Arthur was able to feel a little of Spot’s...frustration? Yes, Arthur would call his fury’s emotional signature as they both felt the stirrings of the storm but would leave the wind wraiths untried, letting the storm build until it broke over the base. “I get it,” Arthur was saying to the fury who still lingered at his side as they hovered in place. The wolf whined once before finishing with a growl. Both sounds could only be described as a sharp whistling of the wind.

He loved his wind wolf, he loved Spot, even if he rolled his eyes every time he’d say the fury’s name aloud in front of another person. It was little Phillipa who had taken to referring to Arthur’s big, scary wolf fury as Spot. Spot, who Arthur had really been toying with naming Skoll or Hati because of the wolves in Norse mythology, had liked the name the child had given him.

Spot had personality. Spot may or may not have opinions. It certainly felt like the fury had opinions. Spot pressed his head beneath Arthur’s palm. Arthur felt the pressure, he felt the shape of Spot's head, and stopped himself from doing as he'd do with a dog and rub the wind wolf's ears. If he focused he would only become more aware that that Spot's fur was nothing more than air defined by particulate matter in the air. But he did sympathize with the fury.

“You don’t like being underground anymore than I do,” Arthur said to the fury. “I’d love to break up those storms with you, really I would. But we have to get down there soon. I’ve got a breakfast date,” Arthur said, smiling as he thought about it.

The breakfast date with Eames.

Then the meeting with the Vord Queen.

Then the meeting with his superiors.

But of course he was more invested in the very first meeting. He couldn’t show up to it tired from breaking apart the encroaching storm system, his hair a windswept mess, his skin and clothes smelling of ozone. Arthur knew that Eames would love to be outside with him, but he had to sign just as many agreements and contracts about staying within the base and staying underground. Arthur refused to flaunt one of his freedoms during the time he could spend with Eames.

“Let’s get going, Spot. Take me down,” Arthur told his fury, smiling when the fury listened to him, angling Arthur’s body so he could make the descent safely.

The air rushed past Arthur’s body as he shot through the air, moving fast in a controlled dive back to the ground. The air was so cool and clean, Arthur laughed in joy for the feeling. Even if he was likely not to be allowed out again today, this wouldn’t be the best part of his day. It was the part of the day that was just for him, the part that he bargained for and didn’t want to rub in Eames’s face.

No, they’d have a nice breakfast together. Arthur cut the windstream so he wouldn’t kick-up so much dust and debris when he landed. He hit the ground from a height of a couple of feet in the air, absorbing the shock from the fall, but standing up straight. He was brushing off his clothing when Bruno, his handler, approached.

“Have nice flight, then?”

“Always nice to stretch out and go for a fly,” Arthur said shortly.

In the beginning Bruno was thrown across the field after he had tried to strong-arm Arthur. Arthur had carried Bruno back down into the base and gently placed the fully clothed man into a tub of water so his fractured ribs could be mended. After that they'd come to some agreement. Bruno wouldn’t boss Arthur around and treat him as a prisoner if Arthur didn’t use his crafting as an obvious advantage. Because it was.

They had developed a decent enough working relationship. Bruno wouldn’t make it so obvious that he was holding onto his binoculars with one hand and leaving the other free so he could reach the tranquilizer gun he'd been outfitted with as he waited on the ground for Arthur. And because the tranquilizer gun was originally supposed to be a real gun with real bullets, Arthur didn't make it obvious that once he was up in the air and commanding his air fury, he could just as easily knock each tranquilizer off course. They had to trust each other a little.

Together they went to the entrance of underground base. They took the stairs, Bruno used a key code to open the door, and was greeted by the base's resident truthfinder, Sean.

Clean cut and American as apple pie, Sean was one of the many soldiers who survived Project PASIV, but hadn’t immediately come across the radar as strongly gifted. He couldn’t call strength from the earth, he couldn’t fly, he couldn’t call fire, or hide himself with dead or living plants. He couldn’t even use metalcrafting. But Sean was a human lie detector with his gift of watercrafting narrowing to just that purpose. Sean wasn’t a healer.

“Good morning, gentlemen!” Sean said as they came to a stop in front of him. “Have a nice flight, Arthur?”

Arthur nodded. “Yes, it was lovely out there. Bit of a storm brewing, but it might clear up within a few hours. Did we get much a forecast for rain?”

Sean was a good enough reader to notice when Arthur lied, but he was being used to test for specific lies, for specific half-truths. Arthur knew that after he’d gotten a baseline reading for Arthur’s true answers and false ones, he’d be able to pick out the subtle notes that would prove that Arthur had been knocked unconscious while outside and his identity stolen in the way only the best watercrafters could. Though they would essentially look the same, and maybe even act in similar ways, the illusion would fall apart quickly enough. Sean smiled and offered to shake Arthur’s hand. Arthur offered his own readily, always surprised at the influx of information that Sean hid beneath his outwardly pleasant exterior. Sean hid it well, but Arthur could feel how nervous he was.

“No, we didn’t,” Sean answered truthfully, and Arthur already noticed the way the other man’s words rang true.“Overcast with a chance of rain most definitely. Did you notice it shifting out there?”

“It might be a ways off. The storm that’s building could miss us entirely. But it was so tempting to go out further to break it up before it had the chance.”

Sean raised an eyebrow. “Did you go out of bounds?”

“Do I look like I’ve been hit with a tranquilizer dart, Sean?” Sean waited for a real answer. Arthur had to hand it to the guy, he was being especially patient with Arthur’s progressively evasive answers.

“No, Sean. I stayed within the limits given to me. Bruno waited for me on the ground. There were no fights. Now, so you know that I’m telling you the truth, let me tell you some nonsense.” Arthur squeezed Sean’s hand before saying, “I’m a pretty French maid, Sean.”

Arthur said the words with a completely straight-face. Bruno covered a chuckle with a cough, forcefully clearing his throat before Sean turned to him and asked for him to verify what Arthur said. By now it was a pointless way to verify it, but Arthur liked to break the tension sometimes. And though he didn’t really like Bruno, it didn’t mean that he wanted him to have to go out of his way, stress himself out, or get into any real danger while babysitting him during a flight.

“Is Arthur a pretty French maid, Bruno?”

Bruno recovered enough to answer. “No. He’s not a pretty French maid.”

Sean nodded and let go of Arthur’s hand. “Okay, you pass! Have a nice date, sir,” Sean said to Arthur. Arthur was already eager to go to Eames, so he only nodded in response to Sean and left. Bruno shadowed Arthur, escorting him back to his living quarters deep within the base.

“Thank you again, Bruno,” Arthur said briefly before entering his room and closing the door. He had to get ready for Eames.

* * *

The underground base had been built with one idea: contain the Vord Queen and contain any crafters still under the Vord Queen's control. Keeping the base underground had the benefit of secrecy and controlling who entered and exited. 

The only influence Arthur had in the building of this base had been his detailed descriptions of what the previous base had looked like and how difficult it had been for just two crafters to attempt to trap the Vord Queen underground. No doubt there were other measures in place in case the Vord Queen decided to stop being so docile. One measure involved keeping Arthur close, so the Vord Queen would have access to the man who would ensure a return to Carna.

Living underground wasn't easy. There was no plumbing or natural water sources so there were no showers, no sinks, or taps. There were no bathrooms within the base, but there were improvisations left and right. Fresh water was brought down so there was water for cooking, bathing, and the use a small functioning single flush toilet system that was operated using grey and waste water. Arthur had a small supply of water, a bucket, a towel, and a bar of soap in the section of his rooms that worked as his bathroom. He had a decent sized mirror so he could shave using a straight razor that Bruno had procured for him on the condition that Arthur wouldn’t use it as a weapon.

“I want to look nice for Eames, okay? For me,” Arthur had said before, gesturing to his lightly stubbled cheeks, “this sort of qualifies me as a mountain man. I doubt he’s doing much better if you give me a razor with such hesitance.”

Arthur shaved, and then he gave himself a careful but through scrubbing, dipping and redipping his towel into the bucket of graying water so he could get every bit of soap off his skin. He didn’t think he’d smell too much like the outside. He didn’t want to flaunt how he got to fly around in air tinged with the scent of storms, no matter what Sean said about the forecast. Weather forecasters weren’t right all the time anyway. Arthur got dressed in clothing that thankfully wasn’t as strictly monitored for elemental influences. If he had to dress in completely synthetic materials to avoid contact with dead plant materials like hemp or forgo materials made of metal like buttons or zippers, it would make this life in the underground base extremely difficult.

So while he wasn’t wearing one of his bespoke suits or the clothes he liked to wear when in a casual mood, he was wearing something that was presentable and clean. That was what mattered. Arthur cleaned the straight razor and set it aside for Eames, tidied his small living space, and moved to set the small table for the breakfast that would come along with Eames. The knock on the door came sooner than he thought it would.

“Hi,” Arthur said when he opened the door and noticed that Eames was waiting on the other side. His wide smile wasn’t enough to make Arthur ignore the armed guard at Eames’s back or the second person holding the covered tray that held their breakfast. But Arthur was willing to try.

“Please come in and make yourself comfortable.” Eames walked through the door and Arthur stood to one side to let the guard follow Eames inside, and then allowed the other one carrying the food follow.

“Nice to see you, Hendricks,” Arthur addressed the one with the gun, then nodded and smiled at the one with the food. “Are you having a nice morning, Ericson?”

“You,” Hendricks ordered Eames, “stay exactly where you are and don’t move until the table is set. You’ll sit after.” Eames ignored Hendricks and looked at Arthur.

“Darling, you get more ravishing each time I see you.”

“Do I?”

“Yes, I think the only thing stopping me from running my fingers through your product free hair is the fact that Hendricks might shoot me if I move without permission. Besides, he’d overreact to me expressing affection because he still thinks I’m some kind of drone.”

Hendricks narrowed his eyes. “Shut up.”

Ericson stepped between the two and placed the covered tray on the table, saying brightly, “It may just be eggs, toast, and tea, but it’s still a lovely breakfast when you share it with someone special! Am I right, Hendricks?”

“Just stay still,” Hendricks was saying to Eames, and completely ignoring Ericson.

“I want to hold his hand,” Eames was saying to Hendricks, but referring to Arthur. “I’d like to kiss him hello. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve even kissed his dimples? Don’t you get how screwed up that is?”

“Aw,” Ericson said with one hand reflexively resting against his heart. “That’s so sweet! Come on, Hendricks, give him a break! He didn’t threaten us, he didn’t hurt anyone, and he’s been dealing so well with all the tests and doctors studying him.”

“Is that true?” Arthur asked Eames. “I mean, I know that you’re a gentleman and have been dealing with the testing, retesting, and other safety precautions since aside from Cobb, you’re the only other living person we have on hand who has experienced the Vord dreams and hasn’t gone insane. Well, there was Nash, but he ran and ran far after what happened.”

“The testing is strange. Like dream analysis and talk therapy that circles back to the question of ‘Do you really think you’re free of the V.Q’s control?’” Ericson was trying to get Hendricks to back out of the room, but the man was going about it too slowly, insistent that he had to keep his weapon on Eames even though the man was clearly too focused on speaking to Arthur.

“You call the Vord Queen ‘the V.Q’?”

“It’s a long enough name. I doubt there’s another identifying name that the V.Q. will accept. It’s just shorter this way.”

Finally Ericson and Hendricks left the room. The door closed and Arthur and Eames were finally alone. Arthur licked his lips and asked, “Which do you want to do first? To shave or kiss me hello?”

Eames had a decent beard. He looked good, really, but from the way he kept scratching at it the beard might not be all that comfortable.

“I’d love to kiss you first. And then second. And then I’ll shave. We’ll have breakfast together, we’ll talk...I mean, we’ll do all those things if you still trust me.” Eames was suddenly shy. “Do you trust me, darling?”

Arthur took Eames’s hand in his own and said, “Try and lie to me. If I didn’t think it would ruin the moment, I’d call in Sean to ease your worries. He’d surely tell you that I’m not lying right now when I say trust you. That I love you. That I haven’t been able to sleep comfortably without you lying next to me.” Arthur cleared his throat.“Then I’d shove poor Sean out of the room because he doesn’t get to hear about how much I want to have sex with you. That’s private, damn it. It’s nothing like me feeding him falsehoods at the door, testing to see if he can tell when I’m lying on purpose.”

Eames had stepped closer to Arthur during his descriptions. When he placed his hands on Arthur’s waist, the other man did nothing to stop him from pulling him closer. “And what test did you give him? Mine? Did you start talking about marshmallow clouds?”

Arthur’s smile was slow. He leaned closer and whispered it in Eames’s ear. “Eames, I said I was a pretty French maid.”

“Is it time for Halloween? Can we find you a French maid costume? I’m sure that you could be a very pretty French maid if you wanted to. I’d even help you with your make up.”

They made eye contact and after a brief moment of silence they began to laugh. Collapsing against one another, Arthur held Eames and began to press kiss after kiss against his face. “I missed you. I’m so glad we get time together but I’d like it even better when they stop doing this escort thing. The separate rooms are starting to kill me.” Eames pulled away and smiled. “But you miss my conversation most, don’t you?” Arthur touched Eames’s face, cupping his hand against Eames’s cheek. The scratchy bristles of Eames’s beard tickled at the palm of Arthur’s hand. Sure it scratched his cheek a little when he began to kiss Eames, but it actually looked quite good on him. Eames could pull of being a mountain man much better than Arthur, really.

“I miss everything,” Arthur admitted. “Since they took us here I’ve been waiting for the day that they would finally clear us to have more than brief meals in each other’s company. Eames nodded and embraced Arthur fully, so he could rest his chin on Arthur’s shoulder and hold him close.

“I miss everything too. One day they’ll realize that I’m free from the Vord Queen’s control.”

“I know,” Arthur said, hugging Eames back just as close. “I’ve been demanding daily updates of your status.”

“Is it nice to be able to boss everyone around, love?”

Arthur shrugged. “It would feel so much nicer if they didn’t casually remind me that I could be shot and buried in a ditch if they really wanted to study the Vord Queen without attempting to understand her.”

“It’s interesting that you identify it as a she.”

“Why shouldn’t I? She presents herself as a humanoid with female features. She may be juvenile, but she’s clearly a she. I’ve tried to figure out if that’s standard in the Vord, whether other Vord remain without a gender as she is the queen who likely produces every kind of Vord within the nest. That and some of the talks I’ve had with the Vord Queen make me think that there’s an actual outlook on it.”

Arthur could have mentioned matriarchal societies. He could have mentioned hive-mind species controlled by a female entity; specifically ants, wasps, and bees. But Arthur stopped talked with Eames about the Vord Queen and he was sure that Eames would know why.

“You’d talk more,” Eames said patiently, “but the people attempting to hold you hostage as you work with the Vord Queen are going to be pissed if you reveal any more information that you have gathered from your daily conversations with it. Or her. But I could go back to saying “it” if that’s better.”

“I’ve seen the footage of your trips to the psychologists, the trips to the doctors. They can’t prove that you’ve been freed and it makes them nervous. For all they know you’ve been using your watercrafting to learn what they’re scared of and doing the opposite, of pretending to be normal so they allow you to interact with me.”

“But why would I do such a thing?”

“God only knows,” Arthur muttered. So much had gone haywire with any research related to the Vord Queen. So much had already gone wrong. Saito had used his pull to influence how these facilities were run and who would have the say to do what, but there was still a militaristic feeling to this place and their interactions with the Vord Queen that it wasn’t like they were holding her for safekeeping while Arthur attempted to make good on what he promised in exchange for the dreamers’ freedom. It was more like they were keeping her in lock-down while they decided what to do.

They still didn’t even know if it was possible to kill her. If she could get sick, if she could furycraft like some of the uncovered record suggested might be possible. So that was Arthur’s secondary job while trapped on the base with the Vord Queen. Attempting to complete the research the other team had failed at after they introduced the PASIV into the situation. Adding to their knowledge as Arthur gave her what she wanted most of all: a way off of Earth and back to Carna. And Arthur had lied. Oh, he had lied to the Vord Queen and continued to lie to the Vord Queen about the progress they had made. Arthur’s entire body must have tensed as he mulled it all over. Eames ran his hand soothingly down Arthur’s spine.

“Please don’t worry about it, darling. I’m sure everything will go to plan.”

“But they won’t tell you the plan,” Arthur reminded Eames, and then cursed himself because it was an unnecessary reminder. It obviously bothered Eames to be kept below ground, to be kept out of the plans, and then to be separated from Arthur.

“Don’t,” Eames said, continuing to pet and soothe him. “You understand the risks. But you’ve also got to understand how much faith I have in you, darling. You’ll get it all done. You’ll succeed.”

“But I do so much better with you at my side,” Arthur said. “They may not be able to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Vord Queen freed you, but they also can’t prove the opposite.”

Eames said nothing in response to that. He just continued to hold him. He finally sighed and said, “I know there’s a lot we can’t talk about and that it bothers you. I bothers me too. But if we don’t play by the rules, we’ll not be allowed to play at all.”

Eames smiled crookedly at Arthur and winked. “So we’ll gamble, but we’ll play to win. And in the meantime we’ll sit down to a mostly cold breakfast and enjoy our morning together.” Arthur nodded. He never thought that mostly cold breakfast,  mostly cold tea would sound so good, but hearing their situation described like that gave Arthur a little hope. He touched his totem, already knowing that this unreal experience still constituted reality, but more to remember the shape he’d given his totem. The red acrylic die, loaded so he would be the only one to know the weight of that particular loaded die. It matched Eames’s red poker chip. It matched them as a couple because at heart, despite all the planning either of them took part in, they were gamblers.

* * *

 

They sat down for breakfast and made light conversation about the events of the morning. Eames had worked out, performed a bit of crafting in front of the doctors who still were curious about the methods used, and had cleaned himself up for his breakfast date with Arthur.

“You went flying?” Eames asked as used the plastic cutlery that came with their faux metallic covered tray to scrape off the black char from one of his almost burnt slices bread. Though the scrapping removed the char it also took off the minimal butter that hadn’t melted into the toast, the tray had a series of tiny plastic jelly containers of the Welch’s variety. He’d traded Arthur a strawberry for his orange marmalade because neither wanted the grape flavored one.

“Yeah,” Arthur admitted, still feeling a little bad about it. “It looked nice outside even if there might be a storm coming our way.” Eames took a bite of his toast and nodded for Arthur to continue. Arthur knew that Eames would want all sorts of little details. “The air was so cool,” Arthur said, indulging Eames. “I couldn’t go very high up because I’m sure that Bruno would shoot a tranq dart at me.”

Eames took a sip of his tea. “Because you’ve not proven that you’re not going to fly away and leave them high and dry after the first time you got to walk about up above?” Arthur reached for Eames’s free hand, gratified when Eames clasped his hand too. “I made a promise along those lines, didn’t I? I don’t run without you, Mr. Eames. Just like you won’t run without me. We watch each other’s backs.”

“I love you, Arthur,” Eames said, eyes serious. It made Arthur stop for a moment. It wasn’t like they didn’t say it. They showed it more than said it. But when they did, it always made Arthur pause and think of how far they had actually come since Project PASIV.

“If we get out of this alive, Eames, what would you say to meeting my family?” Arthur shrugged a little. “Well, what’s left of my family, really. I’m sure they’d be surprised to see me pop up after I’ve been gone for so long.”

Running from the law, hiding from the military, chasing after the Cobbs. It hadn’t left Arthur a lot of time to reconnect with his remaining family members. His mother and father were still alive, but would be very shocked to see their grown up son bringing home another man to visit.

“I think we’re at that level, you know? We’ve been together for awhile, we have so much personal history, and I don’t know if it’s the threats of death or imprisonment that are spurring on these thoughts, but I’d kind of like to meet your family too. If that’s okay,” Arthur finally finished hesitantly. Eames grinned at Arthur.

“Arthur, I thought you’d never ask! My mother will definitely fall in love with you. As soon as you step through the door, my mother will sweep you into the house, into her arms, and be just a little inappropriate as she praises your good looks and emotional integrity.” Arthur smiled, knowing that Eames was referring to his mother’s watercrafting abilities. “She’d know that we're and excellent match, so please, don’t be surprised if she starts to plan a wedding over dinner.”

Arthur was so impressed. “You’ve been thinking about this too, haven’t you? Have you been waiting to spring me on your family for awhile?”

“I won’t deny that I’ve been sending letters to my mother. I sent a picture of you,” Eames said. It was interesting, but Arthur had this warm, sort of hopeful feeling thinking that Eames’s mother, somewhere in the countryside in an even quieter little town, had a picture of him. Maybe it was sitting in an open envelope, folded up in the letter Eames sent. He’d never imagined what Eames’s mother looked like, he’d never seen a picture of Eames’s family either, but it made him happy to know that they knew of him. That they were excited to see him!

“I’m going to be delightful,” Arthur promised Eames as the other man pressed a kiss to the back of Arthur’s hand. “I’ll impress your parents and prove that you brought home a catch.” Eames rolled his eyes. “I doubt they will phrase it quite like that. All they’ll want to know is if you make me happy and if I make you happy. Doubtless they’ll be impressed by you because you’re Arthur, best point man of dreamshare, exceedingly handsome and charming.”

Arthur almost wished he could have asked Eames about his family of crafters. If he could he would have said something like: “Tell me the secret,” Arthur asked playfully. “How in the hell did your parents, your entire family, stay under the radar as natural crafters?”

But Eames would probably not reply. He’d probably only smile and shake his head in response to that. They’d been over it before. Though Arthur had checked and checked the room and found no recording devices, neither wanted to have private information about friends or relatives recorded by some hidden mic that had been replaced or hidden too well for Arthur to notice. They just couldn’t risk it happening and then have Eames’s family rounded up for testing. Because that was the strange part. The Eames family were all natural crafters. Each one of his family members hadn’t had to use a PASIV to unlock the ability to bond with elementals.

Ariadne had a similar experience too, but according to her, she was the only one who could do it. Arthur did wonder about her older brother, Aiden. What if he’d had the ability to watercraft but was damaged in some way? Traumatic events at the time a person’s gifts were naturally awakened usually led to mental problems of one sort or another. But Arthur wasn’t going to press her and he wasn’t going to try and meet with Aiden.

Eames’s family was definitely a mystery. They were one that he was going to make sure no one working at the base ever discovered; Eames’s family was going to be his secret. Arthur would only think of meeting them, experiencing jitters and nervousness because it had literally been forever since he went to visit someone else’s family. He was excited, for sure, but he was also going to hold onto that secret till they left this place together. That was one of the things that got him through this. But he’d have to make sure he kept his shields up and didn’t think of things like Eames’s family when he was in the presence of the Vord Queen.

“Darling,” Eames said, drawing Arthur’s thoughts away from preparations and meeting the other man’s parents. “Eat your eggs and finish your tea. You’ll need your strength for meeting with her.”

Arthur nodded and finished his cold eggs, sipping at now less than lukewarm tea. It was okay. He finished the cup and placed it on the table, wishing that he’d been given coffee instead. Then he stood up and moved to Eames’s side.

“You’re not kissing me goodbye, are you?”

“We kissed hello after the fact because one guy took forever being macho and waving a gun around at you while another politely served us breakfast. You didn’t even get around to kissing my dimples. So I’m going to give you one hell of a good morning and goodbye kiss to make up for all of that, okay?”

The forger smirked before saying, “Not too exciting, dear. I don’t want to accidentally give the old girl a show.” So the kiss, while not restrained and chaste, also wasn’t as long as Arthur would have wanted. He kept it less than a minute long, nothing that would reside in his short-term memory long enough to register as something more than pleasurable.

“Another minute, please?” Eames was already asking, cheeks flushed, fingers itching to grasp Arthur by the shirt collar and tug him down for another. They’d really not been allowed to see each other in awhile. The occasional meal or meeting was what they got, so they made the most out of it. It wasn’t fair, but those were the restrictions they had to work with in order to see each other at all. Ironically they should be thankful that it was the Vord Queen’s influence that allowed Eames to not be handcuffed during his meals with Arthur.

“I’ve got to go, Eames.”

But Arthur did press another kiss against Eames’s cheek before he left.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur reached his destination, his metalcrafting doing wonders for the feelings of entrapment he’d have from being effectively stuck underground again. He nodded to the armed guards before entering, clenching his fist to not imagine what comfort a gun would be. All Arthur had was a notebook and pencil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...hello! I looked at my calendar, remembered that February only has 28 days in a month, and that I'd planned to post one chapter a month! So lets hear it for remembering goals! 
> 
> It's a short chapter but we'll start getting into the conflict that drives the plot next month.

Once Arthur was outside of his rooms, the guard waiting outside to collect Eames stepped in. Arthur was planning to put enough distance between him and his room so he wouldn’t accidentally learn where Eames was going to be marched off to.

Arthur put the thought out of his mind and began to walk, working on his crafting as he did. Arthur had learned a lot since he’d begun speaking with the Vord Queen- she, to show her trust in Arthur, hadn’t dared to hurt him. Though she kept her strength in check, her ability to read the thoughts of others was always on. She claimed to not listen in to Arthur’s thoughts.

But because Arthur couldn’t believe that she wouldn’t attempt to listen to what he was thinking as they worked together, Arthur made efforts to prevent her from discovering anything worthwhile. He began layering his crafting on his way to her quarters.

First he began a metal crafting to remain calm and clearheaded. Then he used his water fury to protect himself from outside emotional influences. He may have been metalcrafting himself into sharp-edged calm, but he still had to be sure that even his lack of emotions couldn’t be read by crafters or the Vord Queen herself. He was shielding like his life depended on it.

And in a very real sense, it did.

He pushed the thought out of his mind. He pushed all thoughts of Eames out of his mind and welcomed the detached and cold sensation the metalcrafting brought to his thoughts.

Arthur reached his destination, his metalcrafting doing wonders for the feelings of entrapment he’d have from being effectively stuck underground again. He nodded to the armed guards before entering, clenching his fist to not imagine what comfort a gun would be. All Arthur had was a notebook and pencil.

Like the other sectioned rooms within the base, the Vord Queen’s rooms had some lighting, not enough to see comfortably but it was better than complete darkness.

The Vord Queen was crouched in one corner facing the doorway.

“Good morning,” Arthur said, tightening his hold on his notebook as he focused on his crafting. It wouldn’t do to slip up and reveal something seconds after entering.

“Arthur,” the Vord Queen said, her voice still edged with that insect like buzz. “Have a seat.”

Arthur moved to the chair in the middle of the room. He was the only person who entered the room or stayed long enough to require a seat, even if when he first began speaking with the Vord Queen the room was devoid of anything that the Vord Queen could use as a weapon.

The chair was another example of the Vord Queen’s efforts to foster a sense of good will. She asked for the chair for Arthur’s sake. Arthur accepted the chair because he understood what she was trying to do- if Arthur had a chair he would be more willing to spend extended amounts of time with her. He remembered when Michelle had explained that the Vord Queen was lonely. She was a part of a species that destroyed self-identity, that destroyed everything, really, but even Arthur could sense her loneliness. There were no more Vord. She wasn’t even capable of producing more due to some defect.

Today’s conversation began with this topic. They always appeared to circle this topic as Arthur probed and questioned her about Carna.

“Why am I not grown?”

Arthur shook his head. “We still don’t know enough about the life cycle of the Vord. We know that there are several different types, each with its own function, but there is little in the histories that describe _how_ the queens develop.”

“I am damaged?”

Arthur edged around the topic carefully. “Consider this,” Arthur said. “Maybe the things that have stopped you from fulfilling your original purpose led to you surviving to this day and age.”

What Arthur wasn’t saying was that the histories explained in detail the form of the Vord that nearly brought Carna to ruin. It had been woken by the blood of two people, one young Aleran male who would later take his place as First Lord and one young Marat female who would be his First Lady, it had taken on attributes of both, but hadn’t been trapped in the physical stage of a young adult. No, that Vord Queen had fully matured and created junior queens to spread the Vord quickly.

That the Vord Queen before him now wasn’t capable of creating others seemed to coincide with what had been recorded- that the first Vord created had eventually stopped producing junior queens that could reproduce. This was done in an effort to prevent her from being overthrown and killed by these junior queens.

But that wasn’t a topic Arthur wanted to get into. They would end up talking in circles, going back and forth but not reaching any conclusion. This wasn’t the topic the Vord Queen could give Arthur answers on.

The Vord Queen seemed to consider Arthur’s statement, and finally was ready to move on.

“Now, “Arthur began, opening his notebook to last meeting’s notes, “last time we were talking about the environment in Carna. What are your last memories?”

The Vord Queen remained in the corner, not uncomfortable crouching, but began to rub her hands up and down her arms. She was using the gestures Arthur sometimes used while speaking. This miming was helpful in the beginning when the Vord Queen was slow to speak, just watching and watching Arthur. She was learning by watching and interacting with Arthur. It was possible the she was only doing as her species did- learning the behaviors of the groups the Vord was to dominate, taking them over and wiping them out all together by reproducing in vast numbers.

“Cold,” the Vord Queen said. “It was very cold. Nothing but ice and snow.”

“Was there a storm?”

“Bigger than a storm. Something about the environment changed there. The weather was wrong. The cold froze out the remaining unborn Vord I was left to watch. They died despite being placed in hibernation, sleeping till the other queen woke them again.”

“But how did you survive the cold, the snow, and the bad weather? The reports we have about your being discovered here on Earth suggest that you arrived here and fell into hibernation yourself. But that something woke you.”

The Vord Queen frowned and looked away. “Those that discovered me, they found a human shaped body, inert, not living. They revived me without thinking of the expense to their own lives.”

Arthur had read the file and knew that the Vord Queen, still fumbling, had managed to kill at least one of the researchers who stumbled upon her and tried to bring her back. There were notes and pictures about the defibrillator, and the man she’d nearly torn limb from limb before she was sedated.

At the Vord Queen’s request he’d read those parts of the report back to her. She would occasionally nod in agreement or shake her head. “I didn’t rip him limb from limb,” she began to explain, but stopped when she noticed Arthur’s expression- still cool through the metalcrafting, Arthur had managed a frown.

“He still died.”

“And they didn’t sedate me. They hit me with something heavy. They hit me again and again until I didn’t move.”

“The area where you were found is a place that we have been able to excavate for Aleran artifacts. From what we understand, the journey was made from here to Carna then back again after thousands of years. The Alerans came back and I think they may have brought you with them.”

Arthur licked his lips and told her what they’d discovered so far.

“We’ve been looking around the area where you were found. We’ve found boats. Broken boats of an unfamiliar model that are still similar to the ones used during the times of the Lost Roman Legion. The Alerans came back and we’re still trying to figure out what year it could have been. They integrated into human society on Earth. They may not have known that they brought you with them as they fled.”

The Vord Queen was silent. “A boat. Not all of the Vord died off after the first, after my mother died. Many continued to live and tend specific areas of the land and were adopted by the folk there. I wouldn’t have been taken. I may not have been able to breed, but I’m as powerful as my mother, as fast, as smart...they wouldn’t have taken me with them, but maybe I followed after to survive with them.”

It sounded plausible. If this Vord Queen was one of the only ones to follow after the returning Alerans, it would be possible that the rest of the Vord on Carna died. Or, as she mentioned, the ones that had taken over Canim would have resurged and covered the planet within several hundred years. That the battle that took her mother, wouldn’t have been the end of the race, just a hiccup or pause.

Now Arthur had a good idea of how to get her back there.

But Arthur stopped himself from actually thinking about it while he remained so close to her. She shouldn’t know what he was thinking about this part. This part was him thinking aloud with her, coming up with the plan that would take her back.

“Boats,” she began to say, looking at Arthur hopefully, searching his face then reaching out mentally to try and shuffle through his thoughts without asking. Arthur threw up his shields, strengthened them and focused.

“What have we spoken about? If you want to know what I’m thinking, please just ask.”

The Vord Queen was chastened. It made Arthur remember that in many ways, she was still a child. Sort of.

“Can you get me there on a boat, Arthur?”

Arthur had already known what he’d say. He’d mentioned it to Ariadne way back when, before the inception of Robert Fischer. It was a popular, though strange theory.

“The Bermuda Triangle theory,” Arthur began. Sketching it out on a piece of paper, he showed the Vord Queen the route and told her the story of the lost Roman Legion, who went from one place, moved through the Bermuda Triangle and were never heard from again.

“This is what we’ve isolated. Give us the time to do the figures, to do some more research, and we can start drafting the plans.”

It was impossible to tell if the Vord’s eyes widened. There was no pupil, no white of the eye, nothing to perceptibly widen to prove it. It would have been a better indication of the Vord Queen’s surprise over the news.

The Vord Queen was usually silent, didn’t move unless it was another display of frightening speed to prove who exactly held power over whom.

But there was a confusing moment where the Vord Queen moved towards Arthur, who was still seated on the chair. Arthur remained perfectly still as she inched her way closer, obviously taking care not to frighten Arthur. When she reached out her hand, Arthur prepared to call on the meager air crafting available to him this deep underground so he could dodge out of the way with most of his throat intact.

Arthur was quiet and very still as the Vord Queen...petted him? She took her hand and patted at his shoulder, her chitin tipped fingers barely brushing against the fabric of his shirt.

“Good, Arthur,” the Vord Queen said, praising Arthur like a well behaved dog.

Arthur sat perfectly still and said thanks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m getting you to Carna, damn it!” Arthur said, doubling down, pressing harder on this truth because he was getting her to Carna, even if he had to throw her down into Limbo to get there! “The storm will pass. We’ll pass through the Triangle. If you think this is trouble, just imagine what the storms at sea on Carna are like! You think sharks are bad? Wait until the ship is threatened by leviathans!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Spring Break has begun, so before I use all that free time to catch up on school stuff, I figured I'd devote a day to this. It's about to get serious for Arthur, oh no! (Otherwise known as slashmania finally giving what the summary promises, but still hates the way its written!)
> 
> I'll end up catching all of my other spelling errors tomorrow!

When it happened it was meant to be sudden. Arthur wasn't supposed to be aware of it- not a glimmer or a hint that he could accidentally pass on to the Vord Queen.

* * *

Arthur was woken from a deep sleep by the sensation of needle entering his arm. Years of training and dreamshare backstabbing had taught him that the best defense was a good offense when someone woke him up by pressing a gun to his head, or a knife to his throat. But Arthur looked up at the man looming over him and was comforted by the sight of Eames.

The forger had two familiar armed men at his back, watching as Eames called on his fury and gentled Arthur with one hand against the point man's brow. "It's alright, darling. Just a pinch

The syringe was removed, and Yusuf, who Arthur hadn't noticed at first because of the welcome distraction of Eames, said, "Done, let's go as it takes effect."

"Eames," Arthur said, blinking slowly and realizing that he was going back under again. Eames wasn't touching him anymore, and in this state it worried Arthur. " _Eames_ ," Arthur said again. Then Arthur was moving. Or the bed was moving. All he was really aware of was that Eames was walking beside him as Arthur was still prone. It was coming to him in pieces.

"I'm on a gurney?"

"You'll be fine," Eames said, reassuring Arthur. He reached for his hand and squeezed once. "Just close your eyes for now. I'm going to get you out."

"Shouldn't it be working faster than that-" an unfamiliar brusque voice was saying.

But then Arthur had nodded off and couldn't hear anything else.

* * *

Arthur was on the boat, and there at his side was the Vord Queen. She wore her heavy cloak, the was hood up to hide her strange pale hair. He looked out at the darkening skies and could sense the coming storm.

Arthur himself felt sluggish, but it could also be a little sea sickness. He hadn't been on a boat for some time. This journey was going to take a lot out of him...

"We're on our way," Arthur was saying to the silent Vord Queen. "We've already left the port," Arthur said, remembering the routes he'd painstakingly drew out for her. "We’re 25 degrees North and 71 degrees West. We’ve chosen to enter the Triangle from the closest corner to our original location. We’ve entered from the point and port nearest to Florida. If all goes right, the next stop is Carna.”

The Vord Queen turned her head slightly, a small smile appearing on her lips. "Florida, the 27th state in the United States of America. Known as “The Sunshine State” and a popular tourist destination through a combination of historical sites and various theme parks." She said each one slowly, like they were direly important for the Vord to absorb and acquire. "Disney World. Universal Studios. Sea World."

"It's also a common place for older people to retire.”

"What is Disney World, Arthur?"

Arthur half wondered why she didn't ask the same question about Sea World.

Arthur wasn’t sure how to answer, and was perhaps saved from a lengthily conversation about the franchise, the movies, and the theme parks all over the world, when the wind began to pick up and the waves crashed noisily against the boat, splashing the deck with seawater.

"Get in the cabin," Arthur said. "You could get lost in the sea if this keeps up!"

Arthur caught the sight of the scant crew hired to man this vessel. Arthur had thought the fewer the better, but in this turn in the weather didn't look good.

But the Vord Queen hadn't budged. She continued to look past the bow.

"You're dreaming this storm, Arthur," the Vord Queen said.

"No," Arthur answered, clinging to what he knew- he was taking her to Carna. He was taking her to Carna and then he'd leave with Eames!

Facing off with the Vord Queen, Arthur had the chance to see one of the nearby sailor's change, little details like hair and eye-color, but between one crashing wave and the next, there stood Eames, armed and ready to get him out. Just like they talked about.

 _Just like they talked about_.

Arthur clenched his fist on that chilly knowledge, attempting to shield his emotions from her. He had to hold out a little longer.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Arthur spat. "Just get to safety. I said I was going to bring you to Carna. Are you calling me a liar?"

They'd spoken of lies before. Half-truths, fibs, white-lies. The Vord Queen had never needed to tell lies and Arthur spent most of his time shielding hard enough and thinking of nothing of lies. But he was sure that she knew now.

"I learned something from my time with those people, those researchers. Arthur, did you know that if you take enough Somnacin you notice a little something different? I noticed that Somnacin has a _smell_. It's something you can practically taste on the back of your tongue. Its the same with sedatives too."

“I’m getting you to Carna, damn it!” Arthur said, doubling down, pressing harder on this truth because he was getting her to Carna, even if he had to throw her down into Limbo to get there! “The storm will pass. We’ll pass through the Triangle. If you think this is trouble, just imagine what the storms at sea on Carna are like! You think sharks are bad? Wait until the ship is threatened by leviathans!”

The rain was falling now. Between sea spray and salt in the air, Arthur wasn't sure he'd be able to fly both himself and Eames out safely.

It was his dream, his storm, and he was going to sink this boat- but first he'd have to disable her.

Calling on his crafting, Arthur called on Spot for speed. His vision became sharp edged, the rocking of the boat slowing down, the droplets of the damned dream rain slowing down as Arthur rushed towards the Vord Queen.

Her movements were faster- with her surroundings slowing down around her, the way she smiled and then ripped off her cloak was almost unreal. She threw the cloak in his face and then jumped! Arthur raised one hand and gestured, forcing the damp cloth to fly to the side and stop obstructing his vision. Arthur had all the time in the world to see the Vord Queen land back on the deck in his path, giving the him no time to get away out of her path. She lunged forwards to tear his throat out with chitin tipped fingers.

There was a shot! Then another!

The Vord Queen staggered after being shot in the back, and shot once more in the knee. But her wounds only weakly oozed green ichor. Arthur could smell the cordite over the salty air and spotted Eames ready to take another shot at the Vord Queen who was hurt, but definitely not going down from so little.

The Vord Queen turned and spotted Eames across the deck.

Arthur didn't think, he just acted.

He dreamed up a gun and aimed past the Vord Queen.

"Eames, wake me up!" Arthur called. Then he fired.

Eames dropped dead from the shot to the head, leaving the Vord Queen with only one person to fight.

Calling on his crafting once again, Arthur surprised the Vord Queen by tacking her hard and driving them both off the boat and into the water.

The water was surprisingly cold and it took Arthur a second to call on his water fury to he could begin breathing under the water. He took one great breath then directed his water fury to locate the Vord Queen and neutralize her. Even in a dreamed up ocean, his water crafting felt so much more powerful than usual. It took no time at all to locate her nearby, and then reach out with his fury.

He felt the Vord Queen’s distress when his water fury wrapped herself around the Vord’s mouth, forcing her way in. Arthur directed the fury to fill the Vord’s airways with water. He would drown the Vord Queen while able to feel her every emotion. And Arthur didn’t care.

But when the Vord should have begun to suffocate, to try and force the source of living water out of her throat and lungs, the Vord Queen only turned on the spot and began to slowly, painfully swim towards him. Arthur held his breath and continued to concentrate on making her drown.

All he had to do was remain focused enough to trap her down here. If he forced her to lose consciousness in the water she’d likely drop to the next level, the chemical pumped through her veins topside would force her deeper and deeper till she hit the bottom. Automatic Carna, a place filled with projections she could amass and destroy. Her reproductive abilities could well be restored in Limbo. Let her take over that world.

 _Stay the fuck out of mine_ , Arthur thought as his vision began to get dark around the edges.

She finally began to struggle, to claw at her mouth and nose, choking on Arthur’s fury and swallowing down the ocean as she did it. Arthur continued to hang on and wait.

But in a final thrust, the Vord Queen reached out one clawed hand and drove the long chitin nails into Arthur’s stomach, twisting as she drew her hand back, finally succumbing to the drowning as Arthur’s blood began to cloud the water.

His little water fury returned to him and fluttered about as that improbable butterfly made of water. He could feel the fury’s fear, the worry, and the love. He wanted to be able to comfort her, but he was going to either drown or bleed out.

Or both.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I love working with the First Lord’s spies. You all pay so well and with such little prompting. But I would also appreciate it if you did apologize for mocking my woodcrafting and, as a result, my wood fury. I didn’t have to come to your rescue...what did you say your name was?”
> 
> “My name is Arthur,” the point man playing as a spy said. He realized that he was just going to repeat what he said to reassure himself when he was alone on the water. “I’ve been in an accident. But thank you for coming to help me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for missing posting day at the end of last month! To put a positive spin on this, it means that you'll get a second chapter this month! Yay!
> 
> Oh, this is a very rough draft that I fixed a few details of, but mostly fixed tenses and redundant phrases. I'll do a second reading when I have some more time, but please enjoy the chapter!

Arthur awoke in the waves, feeling some sense of what had just happened to him—his blood and guts had been floating in a cloud around him in the water. The drowned Vord Queen had been floating nearby. 

There was nothing there now. The water was clean. Rather than wrestle with the phantom pain of the death that brought him to the lowest level, the Limbo he had only theorized about in the past and asked Cobb extensive questions about while he’d been kept on the base, Arthur forced himself to figure out where he was in this new setting. Apparently he was far from any shore, familiar or unfamiliar. Arthur called on his water fury and allowed her to help propel him through the choppy waves. He’d not be able to keep such a pace for very long, but he thought he saw a ship in the distance.

He kept swimming, trying to pace himself but also trying to think of a way to alert that ship. If this was Carna, truly the Carna of Limbo since the Vord Queen reached it first and must have shaped it to her desires, there were options.

Arthur paused in his water crafting to do a sight crafting instead. Between his hands he bent the light to create a lens to magnify his view of the ship. He was in luck! It was an Aleran rather than Canim ship. Most likely a trade ship due to its sleek make and model.

Arthur released the sight crafting and called on his water fury again. It was a long shot, but if the trade ship went from Alera to Canim, there should be witchmen on board; powerful watercrafters who used their furies to calm the leviathans and ease the ship’s passage.

“Okay, dear,” Arthur said to his little water fury, “I know it’s far, but can you send a distress signal to the furies on board that ship?”

His fury agreed and immediately left him to try and make contact. Without her help to keep him afloat, Arthur had to paddle to keep his head above water. When he got too tired he floated on his back to conserve what little energy he had left.

As he floated he tried to get the events in order; he knew how he got there. Back in reality, up above, his body was defenseless on a damned lawn chair. Something went wrong. Why wasn’t he given the kick yet?

 _My name is Arthur,_ he thought, _this was an accident._ But the longer he waited for his fury to come back, the more he started to doubt.

The sky looked real enough and so did the ocean. The motions of the water were lulling him half to sleep where he was aware enough only to keep himself from slipping under the water. For a man who thought he had died once already to get here, accidentally drowning would set a theme. Or something. He only intended to close his eyes for a minute...

* * *

Arthur woke up next after being thrown on the deck of a ship (another one?) and began coughing up water before he could identify the one who threw him down on the planks or ask what was going on.

The sword now pressed against his throat cleared up some things. That the ship he discovered and sent his fury out to hail, to try and get him help, wasn’t a friendly Aleran ship at all. Arthur might have asked for help from a pirate!

“I don’t want to know what mission you’re supposed to be on, cursor, but hailing my ship wasn’t a very smart idea.”

Arthur recalled the term used to identify him as he lay on the planks. Cursor- known throughout Alera as those who delivered the mail, the cursors also had a secret purpose to the High Lord and acted as his spy service as well. Of course Arthur would be labeled a spy the second he got down there!

“Do you think I want to be seen rescuing the likes of you?”

But the sword was removed from Arthur’s throat, the sharp point not even pinking his skin. Arthur was thankful for small favors now and question them later when he wasn’t trapped on open water with...

Arthur’s eyes widened as he took in the person standing over him, busy sheathing a sword.

 _Yusuf?_ Arthur thought in amazement. How? How had the chemist gotten down here? And why was he pretending to be a pirate?

“I have questions,” Arthur said, still lying passively on the deck. It gave him an opportunity to examine Yusuf’s outfit. The chemist was dressed all in black. It was definitely dramatic, Arthur thought. But how was he supposed to know what was the proper attire of pirates? So far all he knew of pirates came from watching _The Princess Bride_ hundreds of times when he was younger. He doubted that Yusuf was supposed to be anything like the Dread Pirate Roberts, but that was the only comparison Arthur could make at the moment.

“If you even try to call me Buttercup, I’ll throw you off this ship,” Arthur threatened.

“First, who is Buttercup? Second, my ship would throw you off first, my friend!”

Yusuf, or not- Yusuf, who also wasn’t the Man in Black, the Dread Pirate Roberts, or even _Westley_ , called out to his fury and one of the boards Arthur lay atop of suddenly flexed like a living thing; supple as the tree it used to be before it was cut down and planed into boards.

Arthur was thrown, but not off of the ship. He was tossed in the air and landed on his back, the boards not even splintering when he fell from that height. Breath knocked out of him, Arthur lay still and narrowed his eyes. He hissed, “I still don’t care for woodcrafting...”

This Yusuf was clearly a projection. He had to be. He had been given a part in this drama. Now it would be up to Arthur to make him an ally, since he was already being labeled one of the cursors, a spy for Alera’s First Lord.

“But,” Arthur added slowly, dreaming up a fistful of gold Eagles for pirate Yusuf. “I believe we can come to an arrangement regardless of my personal opinions, correct?”

When Yusuf caught sight of the gold his smile widened and he mocked a bow.

“I love working with the First Lord’s spies. You all pay so well and with such little prompting. But I would also appreciate it if you did apologize for mocking my woodcrafting and, as a result, my wood fury. I didn’t have to come to your rescue...what did you say your name was?”

“My name is Arthur,” the point man playing as a spy said. He realized that he was just going to repeat what he said to reassure himself when he was alone on the water. “I’ve been in an accident. But thank you for coming to help me.”

Arthur passed the fistful of gold to Yusuf and began to bargain with the man. “I need passage back to Alera. I need to reach the nearest coast as soon as possible.”

Yusuf considered it, weighed the gold in his palm, and nodded.

“Okay, _Arthur_. I’m Captain Yusuf. Let’s get you back to land.”

* * *

 

By the time Arthur got off of that ship and made his way to land, his memory began to get fuzzy around the edges. He asked himself constantly _How did I get here_? He’d claw his way down a swiftly fragmenting tower of memories. He’d recall a ship, but not Captain Yusuf’s ship. And a monster. Yes, that was how he got here.

Not realizing how badly he was misinterpreting the events, Arthur recalled only what Yusuf said.

Go to the nearest steadholt in the Calderon Valley. Arthur was in Riva, though why wouldn’t he go to that High Lord? Yusuf seemed insistent though. _Go to that one, he may not like whatever you’re not telling me, cursor, but he will offer shelter, food, and perhaps a change of clothing._

For once Arthur was pleased to not be wearing flying leathers. They would crack and break after being exposed to the water for so long, especially after all the running he would have to do.

Arthur examined his shoes and shook his head. The shoes might last the run. Maybe.

At least Arthur knew that it wasn’t likely _he’d_ break along the way. Focusing, Arthur called on his earth fury, relishing in the feeling of power that flowed into him from his connection the earth fury bonded to him. It wasn’t a very powerful fury, but it would give him strength and stamina enough run the distance through the wooded areas, through the still uninhabited areas of the valley. He’d run the cliffs, the hills, and woods, all the while trying not to imagine himself as a goat or sheep.

He felt the thrum of the furies used in the furycrafted road, built so anyone with furies of their own could run fast without tiring. So folk could run from danger, and Legions could march towards danger.

Arthur began to run, trusting that the furycrafted road would be enough of a guide to the distant but habituated steadholts of the valley.

* * *

 

He was strong, but running at a soldier’s pace for several hours was enough to tire any man.

Arthur leaned against a nearby tree, not panting, but taking deep breaths as he wiped at the sweat collected on his brow. He frowned as he felt his hair, long since broken free of the slicked back style he chose to use while flying, began to curl girlishly. It made him look like a child rather than a man grown.

He looked at his half-full container of water, courtesy of Yusuf, and decided against wasting it to slick his hair back. It wouldn’t work very well, either way. The water would dry and his hair would become just the same.

“If only my problems were constrained to having girlish hair,” Arthur commented to himself, putting the water container back in the pack Yusuf loaned to him when he saw the sparkle of more gold.

Arthur could respect that. Pirating had its obvious cost and benefit, but the captain probably wouldn’t turn down more gold if he could find it.

Arthur pulled out the waterproofed roll of a map that Yusuf had given him. The map was drawn with aircrafters in mind. Land features, distinctive ones, were drawn on the map so they could be easily distinguished from the air.

That would have to be Arthur’s next move. Get to the steadholt, get the help he needed, maybe rest a little, and then start flying. He had to tell the First Lord what he saw. The Vord were here. They were here and would ruin Alera, they would wipe life from the face of Carna!

Arthur wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, ready to move on. The area was heavily wooded, so he’d have to be careful. This was where the furycrafted road lead, but he had to be careful to not get lost.

Unfriendly furies had a nasty habit of getting foolish travelers lost till they died a few feet away from the way out. Bastards.

And then Arthur heard the crackling sound, the pounding of strange feet and the rustling of leaves.

And then the wood fury in the shape of a _bear_ lunged at him through the trees!

Arthur dodged out of the way in time, but just barely.

He felt the sharp and sturdy roots of the wood bear’s claws swipe over his head as he ducked. He dodged and rolled, hoping to get out of the way of the massive fury that roared impossibly, making a sound that was composed of the groaning of the heavy boughs in a storm and the cracking of wooden limbs.

The bear was built out of the twining roots and branches and trees that surrounded it, the eyes empty knotholes, the fur a combination of the surrounding flora and tree moss. If Arthur wasn’t likely to be savaged by this fury, he’d make some comment about its natural beauty. But not right now.

Arthur had no weapons on him, but still had his own furycraft to protect him from this wild fury!

He did the conversions, thinking of the best way to defeat the wood based fury. Fire beats water, and conversely water defeats fire. Earth counters air, and conversely air counters earth. Wood and fire? Wood and air? Wood and metal?

Just Arthur’s luck to not have a single lick of steel on his person! So he’d have to do it the more time consuming way.

Arthur called on his earth fury for strength and prepared to run. The wood fury roared again and began a lumbering run towards Arthur. Arthur began to move, pulling strength and stamina from the earth, deciding to move as far from the trees as possible then to make the jump and fly out of reach of the branches surrounding him. He took the jump when he was more than five feet away from the quickly approaching bear, and then called on his air fury to bear him upwards!

To his dismay the trees still laced their branches together to prevent him from reaching the open sky above the brief canopy.

“Come on,” Arthur called to his air fury, allowing it to let him fall for a moment so Arthur could direct the fury’s power at that canopy, sending his fury towards the interwoven branches, shredding them of their leaves, breaking some of the boughs.

When Arthur’s air fury returned to catch him before he struck the ground or was grabbed by the wood fury, Arthur called on it again to bear him upwards through the broken tree top.

But before Arthur could gain enough of a lead, the wood fury got on its hind legs and swiped at Arthur again.

This time the blow was landed successfully, the fury knocking Arthur out of the air. Arthur felt the pressure of the blow before he felt the gouging of the claws in his back. He landed face first on the packed earth, saving himself a broken nose and chipped teeth when he turned his face away at the last moment.

The side of his head struck the earth, a good rattler of a blow that made Arthur see stars even as he struggled to get up from beneath the bear’s wooden paw. If he didn’t get up the wild fury could easily tear him to pieces. Then he’d never get to warn anyone about the Vord. He’d never get back to...Arthur’s thoughts slowed and stopped as survival took over. It didn’t matter who or what he’d never get back to.

He couldn’t get killed like this.

“Not today,” Arthur was groaning as he became dizzy, drawing enough strength from the earth to get to his hands and knees despite the strength of the fury attempting to pin him in place.

The fury began to push harder, trying to make Arthur stop wriggling and fighting. The pressure knocked the air from Arthur’s lungs, drove the fight from him despite the strength he’d culled from his fury. He was going to suffocate under the pressure.

Then he heard a man yell.

“Off!” The man was yelling as Arthur started blacking out. “He’s not supposed to be in the forest, I know that! We all know that! Just let him go!”

The man paused for a beat before drawing a weapon. At least that was what Arthur thought it sounded like. Between the sound of his pulse rushing through his ears and the sound his ribs and spine were making under the pressure of the wood fury, Arthur thought he could hear the sound of a bow being drawn.

Arthur closed his eyes and heard the sound of the wood fury’s shriek of pain as the first arrow struck it. Then the second. At first Arthur wasn’t sure what was happening, but was grateful when the pressure became less.

The wood fury was ambling away, no doubt. It took Arthur a minute to realize why it worked, but the man who saved him was already kneeling at his side, laying hands on him and checking for broken bones.

“Are you still with me?” The man asked him pressing down carefully, but listening for sounds of pain from Arthur.

It hurt, but nowhere as much as the bear had hurt. Arthur moaned and reached out with one hand to touched the man’s leg. Arthur thought he had his hand pressed against the man’s ankle.

“The arrowheads,” Arthur breathed. “You stopped it with metal.”

And then Arthur passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm putting this here because I don't want to spoil the surprise that happens. Well, I think it'll come off as a surprise because way back when I'd mentioned in an author's note during 'show me your fury' that it was originally meant to be written as if Arthur and co belonged in the world of Codex Alera. I had an outline and character descriptions and supporting reasons for why each Inception character was going to be depicted like they were- and when I changed it around, a lot of those things sneaked over to what was actually posted. 
> 
> So yes. Everything that I post now will be like what I originally intended to post; an Arthur who falls into Limbo, loses his memory of his true reality, but attempts to save the world of Carna anyway. Because he's a badass.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was stiff and sore, but whole and living, so there really was little he could complain about, aside from the fogginess he was experiencing.
> 
> He...he had a message. That much he could remember. That much he could actively recall now.
> 
> Damn it, Arthur thought to himself bitterly. It was important. It was important and I'll have to remember it sooner rather than later. I have to tell the First Lord!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I've edited this chapter as carefully as I can. I won't spoil the surprise here, so I'll put it in the chapter note at the end. So here's the second update for this month because my semester is over and I can do whatever I want. 
> 
> Get ready to be beaten over the head with emotion, okay? I promise its important, otherwise I wouldn't include it. To be completely honest, I just hope its interesting enough to get a comment!

Arthur’s eyes fluttered open while he was submerged in water. He didn’t have time to suspect that there was some kind of theme going on. 

He hadn’t yet called on his water fury. He sensed another fury within the water, noticed it was a reasonably powerful one. Arthur wondered briefly if the one performing the watercrafting on him, the one that must have healed the injuries he incurred during his scrap with the wood fury, might also be the one who saved him.

Between the crafter's water fury and the crafter's hand on the back of Arthur's neck, his head broke the surface of the water so he could breathe naturally. The healing was clearly over.

Blinking to clear the water from his eyes, it took him a moment to get a good look at who he’d believed to be the man who rescued him.

He was very, very wrong.

Instead of the man, whom Arthur hadn’t truly gotten a very good look at after the wood fury was attacking, but he'd heard the man’s voice, felt his touch, and managed to reach out and touch the man’s ankle as he was crouched over him. It had been a pretty nice ankle, so he was sure that the sight he’d meet would be nice.

Instead of the nameless, faceless man who saved him, Arthur looked into the face of an elderly woman. Her mouth was a sour pucker and her eyes were so very pale that Arthur at once thought that she was blind. But as if she’d caught his of curiosity, disbelief, and mild disappointment through her water fury, she removed one withered hand from the back of Arthur's neck, and another against his naked torso. She shook her head.

“After a healing, no fit young lads like yourself are ever pleased to wake with my face as a greeting.”

“I meant no harm or insult, ma'am,” Arthur said immediately. “I just thought that you were my rescuer! Is he about?”

_Can I speak to him? Can I please speak to him?_

The old healer grasped a rough towel to dry her arthritic hands on.

“The steadholder is in, if that’s what you’re asking about.” She smiled a small smile. "He'll see you once you're settled, perhaps after you've eaten and taken a rest."

Arthur raised himself up higher in the tub he was laying full body in. His sudden movement made the water slosh over the side and hit the stone floor of—well, Arthur wasn’t quite sure where he was exactly. Aside from a steadholt he’d been taken to for shelter and healing.

“He’s a steadholder,” Arthur repeated, brushing the lack of the man’s presence away for the moment. “He has greater problems and duties than the life of one man he happened upon. I just want to give him proper thanks.”

The old healer nodded her agreement and laid the towel aside. She whistled and two young healthy aides approached, both pointedly trying to not stare at Arthur’s body. The older woman hissed and picked up a cane Arthur hadn’t seen leaning against the side of the tub. She got up without anyone’s assistance though Arthur could swear that he could feel her aching joints, her bad ache, and her annoyance over the two she was teaching the healing trade.

“You’ll not make any patient uncomfortable!” The old healer ordered, striking the ground with her cane. “You’ll look them in the eyes when in such a state. They had no hand in getting hurt, there is no shame to come out of the healing tub, naked as the day they were born! Give him respect, do it right now before you reach out and help our guest from the tub.”

It took two more sounds of the cane striking the stone ground for the two youths to get into action, moving around her and towards the tub with bowed heads.

“Please,” the first who reached the side of the tub said. “I apologize. It’s been awhile since we’ve practiced healing more than holt animals harmed in the fury storms.”

The other was just as eager for Arthur to hear how sorry he was. “Right, really we’re sorry. It’s just new for us. We promise we’ll become better healers. We’ll develop what Mistress Shale says is a _bedside manner_.” Then the young man shrugged. “Or _tubside manner_ , sir.”

Arthur nodded, “I understand. It must be a hard trade to learn."

He offered his hand to one, and gestured that the other should reach for his elbow, and all three working together, got Arthur stepping out of the tub in no time. He was given a warm towel and assured that once he was dressed, they'd carry out the healing tub and give him privacy. Arthur took the chance to look around the medium sized room- it was spare and neat with a small bed, a night table near to the bed where a small fury lamp sat, and a dresser against the far wall. The room's one chair had been pushed against that wall to make room for the tub.

Jan and Hart waited for Arthur to dry off. They selected items they believed would fit him, and passed him undergarments and heavy  socks, pants that were just a little too big, and a shirt. It was clear these clothes belonged to someone who was obviously as tall as Arthur, but must have been built like a brick shit-house. They'd have to do till his own clothing (if it hadn't been too badly damaged) was washed and dried.

When the food arrived Arthur didn't bother thinking about things like whose clothes he was wearing, or whose room he was borrowing; he sat down on the edge of the small bed and had a bowlful of rich stew, busying himself with eating instead of watching Jan and Hart lifting the healing tub and carrying it out of the room and, if he wasn't mistaking the sound of splashing water and soft cursing, down a flight of stairs. There wasn't much for Arthur to examine in the room as he mopped up the the last of the stew in his bowl with some fresh bread.

He was given water to drink, not ale or any other type of liquor. He’d need to replenish any fluids lost during the healing. But he didn’t even know the extent of his injuries. He was curious so he asked his little water fury to examine the hurts that had been fixed by the Mistress Shale.

His little water fury answered his call almost immediately. It was simply amazing that his back hadn’t snapped in two under the pressure! The muscles had torn in some places. His shoulder could have easily dislocated, but the pressure fractures from being pinned were all healed. It must have been the most tedious of busy work for the healer to see to and Arthur was already trying to think of ways he could thank the old woman for her help.

He was stiff and sore, but whole and living, so there really was little he could complain about, aside from the fogginess he was experiencing.

He...he had a message. That much he could remember. That much he could actively recall now.

 _Damn it_ , Arthur thought to himself bitterly. _It was important. It was important and I'll have to remember it sooner rather than later. I have to tell the First Lord!_

The steadholder, it would be a good start to speak with the steadholder. Arthur set the empty bowl on the ground and tried to relax. He laid down on the bed and closed his eyes.  The mattress was a little lumpy but it was much more comfortable than sleeping on the stone floor. He touched one of the several quilts that covered the bed, fingers finding the minute stitches, the older pieces that would, in time, fall apart without care. Arthur kept his eyes closed and began trying to piece his thoughts together. What did he have to say that was so important to the First Lord? Why was it filling him with this sense of dread? But he was so very tired from the healing that as he relaxed on the lumpy bed and tried to collect his thoughts, he fell half-asleep.

Arthur jerked awake when someone knocked twice on the door and politely waited for an answer before attempting to enter the room

Arthur tried to sit up, glancing at the light streaming in through the curtained window- he couldn't have been out for more than ten or fifteen minutes that he'd spent with his head lolling to the side, mouth-half open. Aware that his hair was still damp, that his clothes didn't fit very well, Arthur used the back of his hand to wipe away the drool from the corner of his mouth. He cleared his throat and called out, "Enter!"

The door opened and a man entered the room. "Hello, I'm Eames," the man said, greeting Arthur warmly. "Welcome to Eamesholt." 

Arthur could have said any number of things in response to this, but he felt most of those words float away. This couldn't be happening...

Arthur swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. He was recalling bits and pieces of their exchange in the forest, so he knew that this man had gentle hands, but was clearly strong and skilled enough to fight off a wild fury. But there was something else that made him feel very familiar. "Thank you for saving me. I take it you carried me back here to treat my wounds?”

Dressed in warm greens and browns, the better to blend into the valley his steadholt inhabited, Eames gently closed the door behind him and approached the bed. He was broad shouldered, bearded, but otherwise clean cut. 

“My fury and I carried you, if you must ask.” The holder shrugged a little. “I knew the depth of your injuries and didn’t wish to harm you, so instead of throwing you over one shoulder and running here, my earth fury bore us together on a sheet of granite pulled from the bones of the earth. With my directions the fury was able to move at an accelerated pace without accidentally launching you from the granite raft in his eagerness to get you here in one piece.”

“I appreciate your fury’s kindness, but I'll thank you again, sir. What may I give you to pay for your kindness?”

The holder immediately shook his head, crossed his arms over his wide chest and said, “No one pays for kindness here...but I would love to know your name so I can stop referring to you as _the handsome young traveler_.”

Now Arthur gave into the blush that traced its way up his veins, decorating his cheeks and becoming more obvious when he smiled. He just couldn't stop it.

“My name is Arthur. Could you please tell me your name so I stop referring to _you_ as the brave man who rescued me?” Arthur had to leave out _handsome_ because he didn’t want the man to think he was purposefully teasing or copying him. Flirtation was okay, but he couldn’t become too distracted from his mission. Now that he was remembering his mission in bits and pieces, it was best to stay focused and let it all come back naturally, though there was something about this Eames that was making Arthur pause.

“As you now know,” the steadholder said, “I'm Eames, this is Eamesholt, where we turn no one away.” His smiled widened. “Even young handsome travelers named Arthur who pointedly do not return compliments, even if I've saved their lives and kindly let them borrow my clothes and use my bed.” Eames pressed one hand against his heart and sighed. “I suppose I can live without being told how dashing I am.”

This forced Arthur to start laughing, part in surprise but also because of how ridiculous this man, this _Eames’s_ was being for his benefit! “Fine,” Arthur said, brushing away a few tears caused by his laughing so hard. “Yes, you are incredibly dashing. Incredibly. I was surprised that I was able to stop myself from only laying hands on your ankle, which by the way, remains a very attractive ankle. I was just going to say something other than that when I passed out. Sorry.”

Eames moved closer to the bed where Arthur was still bundled up comfortably. He dragged the stool over and sat at Arthur’s bedside.

“Now, Arthur,” Eames began. “I want you to understand that what I ask you next means nothing personal. I am the steadholder in charge here, and when I found you in my valley I grew confused. I need to make sure what your intentions are, and if you would hold out your hand, I would like to perform a truthfinding.”

Arthur blinked, but did as he was asked. The man had saved his life, was it really so much trouble to prove his honesty to him?

Arthur placed his hand in Eames’s, enjoying the weight of it and the marks on his fingers and palms from handling weapons like the sword and bow. He likely spent his two years with the Legions before returning to this valley to become a steadholder and civilize the wild lands.

It was likely true, but Arthur would have to ask to be certain.

Whatever Eames felt after first touching Arthur wasn’t obvious. If he had performed a similar inventory of Arthur, but had yet to ask him anything.

“Please,” Eames began, “you can draw back your water fury. I know you can watercraft, that it isn’t your primary fury, but that it is a strong enough talent that she has taken special care to shield you from the emotions of others.”

Arthur closed his eyes and nodded. “Hey,” he said softly, speaking to his water fury. “It’s okay, dear. It will only be for a moment.”

The shield was pulled away and Arthur felt more exposed even though he was fully clothed.

“Thank you, Arthur,” Eames said. Then he asked, “Is your true name Arthur?”

“Yes,” Arthur said.

“And have you come to the valley to do harm to me or my people?”

“No,” Arthur answered.

“Why have you come here?”

Arthur paused a moment too long before answering. It was long enough that it caused Eames to ask again.

“I-,” Arthur tried to fill in the blanks and only came up with something vague. Danger, fear, horror, but it had no name or face. “I have come to warn the First Lord, but I don’t know what my warning was for or about any longer.”

“Tell me what you do know,” Eames firmly requested.

“I fell from the sky and was lost at sea,” Arthur began, getting flashes of information when he thought of the ocean. “There was a ship. The ship took me to shore so I could continue the journey here. He sent me here...”

Arthur’s eyes opened suddenly and he found Eames was watching his face carefully, listening with his fury for the sound of truth in Arthur’s words. “Captain Yusuf,” Arthur said. “His name is Yusuf and he told me how to find you. That you would give shelter to me...” Arthur shook his head and looked worriedly in Eames’s face. “But I can’t remember anything else, Eames!”

Eames slowly nodded his head. “I know a Yusuf. It was good of him to send you my way. The troubles you encountered are the same as any inexperienced traveler in the valley. Count yourself lucky that there wasn’t a storm.”

Eames let go of Arthur’s hand. “I believe you, Arthur. There seems to be some blank places in your memory. They could be the result of the attack by the fury, or an effect of the crafting used to heal you. Your memory could come back if given enough time.”

Eames bit his lower lip and looked seriously at Arthur. “But it also might not. I feel your fear and your worry. Must you go to the First Lord for this?”

Arthur nodded, jaw clenched. “Yes,” Arthur said. “The First Lord must know before it is too late. It may already _be_ too late if the signs have gone unnoticed by too many!”

Eames reached for Arthur’s shoulders and tried to gently press him back into a prone position. He wanted Arthur to be lying down, obviously. But Arthur wasn’t having it. He began to try and struggle into sitting up again.

“No,” Arthur was arguing. He had this feeling that it was coming back to him. He caught images, the memories flickering by too quick to be recognized. It was only unnerving him more! “I have to stop it from happening, Eames! I have to!”

Eames forced him back down on the bed, doing everything but climbing half on top of him to stop Arthur from getting out of the bed.

“Damn it, Arthur!” Eames avoided Arthur’s elbow when he tried to hit him in the face. “Please, calm down or I’ll have to stop you myself!”

Arthur continued to fight the other man. Arthur was desperate to get out of the bed, to flee the steadholt and continue the mission!

“She's here, Eames,” Arthur was begging the other man. “If you don’t let me go I won’t be able to stop it. She’s free, she’s here and if I fail there’s no saving _anyone_!”

Eames’s eyes widened as he no doubt experienced Arthur’s panic and felt the truth of Arthur’s words as he spoke them. But he made a decision and he acted.

“Shh,” Eames whispered, pressing Arthur into the mattress and trying to distract him. “Please relax, darling.”

Arthur blinked. Hearing that endearment brought something back. It worked its way through the horror of the thing he had to warn the First Lord about. It wormed its way through his muddled memories, his fear, and his need to get this job completed.

Arthur looked over at the table next to the bed. He saw it. _He saw it there_.

There was the die sitting innocently on the table. Maybe the ones who undressed him for the healing had found it, maybe Jan or Hart had placed it there when Arthur wasn’t looking. 

Or maybe it appeared there as soon as he began to unravel what he didn’t remember. It all happened so fast too. He hadn’t been there for very long before he started to accept the reality as his own. Here, it was made of wood, still possibly loaded so that it would roll to the number that Arthur knew would tell him he was asleep or awake. Even as he looked at it he could see the hints of red. The color was deviating this form of a simple wooden die, not acrylic, another little sign that something wasn’t right. He didn’t have to roll the die just now to know for sure he was dreaming.

He wasn’t a cursor, Yusuf wasn’t a god damned pirate, and Eames wasn't a steadholder! Arthur turned his attention back to this version of Eames, this projection that he’d flirted with and spoken to, and was rescued by.

Arthur couldn’t stop himself now. He began to cry a little, reaching for the best version of Eames he had at the moment—the fake one, the dreamed up one.

“I’m- I’m going to die down here, aren’t I?” Arthur wrapped his arms around Steadholder Eames, and he clung to him and tried to talk himself down from what he couldn’t ignore now until he forgot _again_. He was trapped in Limbo with no way out, preparing to fight the Vord Queen who had already gotten the head start. For all he knew the Vord Queen had succeeded in getting the groundwork laid out.

“What are you talking about, Arthur?”

Arthur looked into Eames’s face and performed the trick that most watercrafter’s learned when they were young but he, back in reality had spent several years after Project PASIV working on and mastering with his little water fury. A good watercrafter could craft away their tears.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said, tears now gone but voice hoarse from holding back the sobs.

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” Eames was saying. He was gentling him, smoothing one hand down the side of Arthur’s face, cupped his cheek and said, so softly that at first Arthur didn’t hear him. He was trying to get Arthur to let him go, to lay back down. “Sleep, darling. Just go to sleep. Please rest, and we'll talk again. Promise me you'll stay right here so we can sort everything out.”

Arthur nodded hesitantly, but before Eames could take his hands off of him, before Eames could walk away, Arthur reached for Eames and said, "Stay with me a little longer, please?"

And he did, returning to his spot on the stool, very patiently allowing Arthur to grip his hand, not questioning him any more, not forcing him to sleep using a crafting. It was easily the most tense Arthur had felt while holding Eames's hand, even a projection of Eames, and Arthur got to lay there with his eyes closed and consider the horrible irony of feeling homesick for a person his subconscious had found a place for in this hellscape.

But Arthur continued to hold onto him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of all the things I could say about this chapter, I think that this sums it up best:  
> DUN DUN DUN!!!


End file.
